Next morning a crowd gathered on the Common.
hypnotized by the unscewing of the cylinder.
Two feet of shining screw projected when suddenly the
lid fell off.
Two luminous disc-like eyes appeared above the rim.
A huge rounded bulk larger than a bear rose up slowly
glistening like wet leather.
It's lipless mouth quiverted and slavered and snake
like tentacles wirthed as the body heaved and pulsated.
A few younger man crept closser to the pitt.
A tall funnel rose than a ivisible ray of heat leaped
from man to man and there was a bright glare as each
was instantly turned into fire.
Every tree and bush became a mass of flames at the
toutch of his savage unearthly heat ray.
People clawed their way off the Common and I ran too.
I felt I was being toyed with that I was on the very
verge of safety.
This mysterious death would leap after me and strike me
down.
At last I reached Maybury Hill and in the dim coolnes
of my home I wrote an account for my newspaper before I
sank intro a restless haunted sleep.
I awoke to alien sounds of hammering from the pit
and hurried to the railway station to buy the paper
Around me the daily routine of life
working-eating-sleeping
was continuing serenely as it had for countless years
On Horsell Common
the Martians continued hammering and stirring
sleepless indefatigable at work upon the machines
they where making
Now and again a light
like the beam of a warschip's searchlight
swept the Common and the heat ray was ready to follow
In the afternoon a company of soldiers came trough
and aployed along the edge of the Common to form a
cordon
That evening there was a violent crash
and I realize with horror
that my home was now in range of the Martian's heat ray
At dawn a falling star with a trail green mist
behind it landed with a flash like summer lightning
The hammering from the pit and the pounding of guns
grew louder. My fear rose at the sound of someone
creeping into the house. Then I saw it was a young
artilleryman, weary, streaked with blood and dirt.
Artilleryman: Anyone here?
Journalist: Come in. Here, drink this.
Artilleryman: Thank you.
Journalist: What's happened?
Artilleryman: They wiped us out. Hundreds dead, maybe
thousands.
Journalist: The heat ray?
Artilleryman: The Martians. They were inside the hoods
of machines they'd made, massive metal things on legs.
Giant machines that walked. They attacked us. They
wiped us out.
Journalist: Machines?
Artilleryman: Fighting machines, picking up men and
bashing them against trees. Just hunks of metal, but
they knew exactly what they were doing.
Journalist: Hmm. There was another cylinder came last
night.
Artilleryman: Yes. Yes, it looked bound for London.
London! Carrie! I hadn't dreamed there could be danger
to Carrie and her father, so many miles away.
Journalist: I must go to London at once.
Artilleryman: And me, got to report to headquarters, if
there's anything left of it.
At Byfleet, we came upon an inn, but it was deserted.
Artilleryman: Is everybody dead?
Journalist: Not everybody, look...
Six cannons with gunners standing by.
Artilleryman: Bows and arrows against the lightning.
Journalist: Hmm.
Artilleryman: They haven't seen the heat ray yet.
We hurried along the road to Weybridge. Suddenly, there
was a heavy explosion and gusts of smoke erupted into
the air.
Artilleryman: Look! There they are! What did I tell
you!
Quickly, one after the other, four of the fighting
machines appeared. Monstrous tripods, higher than the
tallest steeple, striding over the pine trees and
smashing them, walking tripods of glittering metal.
Each carried a huge funnel and I realized with horror
that I'd seen this awful thing before
A fifth Machine appeared on the far bank. It raised
itself to full height, flourished the
funnel high in the air - and the ghostly, terrible Heat
Ray struck the town.
JOURNALIST: As it struck, all five Fighting Machines
exulted, emitting deafening howls
which roared like thunder.
MARTIANS: Ulla! Ulla!
JOURNALIST: The six guns we had seen now fired
simultaneously,
decapitating a Fighting Machine. The Martian inside the
hood was slain, splashed to
the four winds, and the body, nothing now but an
intricate device of metal, went
whirling to destruction. As the other Monsters
advanced, people ran away blindly, the
Artilleryman among them, but I jumped into the water
and hid until forced up to
breathe. Now the guns spoke again, but this time the
Heat Ray sent them to oblivion.
MARTIANS: Ulla!
JOURNALIST: With a white flash, the Heat Ray swept
across the river. Scalded, half-
blinded and agonized, I staggered through leaping,
hissing water towards the shore. I fell
helplessly, in full sight of the Martians, expecting
nothing but death. The foot of a
Fighting Machine came down close to my head, then
lifted again, as the four Martians
carried away the debris of their fallen comrade... and
I realized that by a miracle , I had
escaped.
JOURNALIST: For three days I fought my way along roads
packed with refugees, the homeless, burdened with boxes
and bundles containing their valuables. All that was of
value to me was in London. By the time I reached their
little red brick house, Carrie and her father were
gone.
JOURNALIST (Sung): The summer sun is fading as the year
grows old,
And darker days are drawing near,
The winter winds will be much colder,
Now you're not here.
I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear,
I wish that I was flying with them.
Now you're not here.
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away...
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way,
You always loved this time of year.
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now,
Cause you're not here,
Cause you're not here,
Cause you're not here.
JOURNALIST: Fire suddenly leapt from house to house.
The population panicked and ran, and I was swept along
with them, aimless and lost without Carrie. Finally, I
headed eastward for the ocean and my only hope of
survival; a boat out of England.
JOURNALIST (Sung): Like the sun through the trees you
came to love me,
Like a leaf on the breeze you blew away...
A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes,
As if to hide a lonely tear.
My life will be forever autumn,
Cause you're not here,
Cause you're not here,
Cause you're not here.
JOURNALIST: As I hastened through Covent Garden,
Blackfriars and Billingsgate, more and more people
joined the painful exodus. Sad, weary women, their
children stumbling in the street with tears, their men
bitter and angry, the rich rubbing shoulders with
beggars and outcasts. Dogs snarled and whined, the
horse's bits were covered with foam, and here and there
were wounded soldiers, as helpless as the rest.
We saw tripods wading up the Thames, cutting through
bridges as though they were paper. Waterloo bridge,
Westminster bridge, one appeared above Big Ben.
MARTIANS: Ulla!
JOURNALIST: Never before in the history of the world,
had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered
together. This was no disciplined march, it was a
stampede, without order and without a goal, six million
people unarmed and unprovisioned driving headlong. It
was the beginning of the rout of civilization, of the
massacre of mankind.
A vast crowd buffeted me towards the already packed
steamer. I looked up enviously at those safely on
board... straight into the eyes of my beloved Carrie.
At sight of me she began to fight her way along the
packed deck to the gangplank. At that very moment, it
was raised, and I caught a last glimpse of her
despairing face as the crowd swept me away from her.
JOURNALIST (Sung): Like the sun through the trees you
came to love me,
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away...
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way,
You always loved this time of year.
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now,
Cause you're not here,
Cause you're not here,
JOURNALIST: No one would have believed, in the last
years of the
nineteenth century, that human affairs were being
watched from the timeless worlds
of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as
someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of
water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet,
across the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with
envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us.
At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of
luminous gas erupted from Mars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million
miles of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to
bring so much calamity to Earth.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was
another missile, starting on its way.
And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare,
spurting out from Mars - bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it - a beautiful,
but somehow disturbing sight. Ogilvy,
the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger. He was
convinced there could be no
living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they
come!"
JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile
approached Earth. It was thought
to be an ordinary falling star, but next day there was
a huge crater in the middle of the
Common, and Ogilvy came to examine what lay there: a
cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming
from within.
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing,
and Ogilvy feared there was a
man inside, trying to escape. he rushed to the
cylinder, but the intense heat stopped him
before he could burn himself on the metal.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still
come!"
"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a
million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but they still come!"
It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone
spent that evening as
though it were just like any other. From the railway
station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost
into melody by the distance. It all
Brave New World and Dead London
Then, on the ninth day, we saw the Martians eating. Inside the hood of their new machine they were drawing the fresh, living blood of men and women and injecting it into their own veins.
Nathaniel: Aah! It's a sign! I've been given a sign! They must be cast out, and I have been chosen to do it! I must confront them now!
Journalist: No, parson, no!
Nathaniel: Those machines are just demons in another form. I shall destroy them with my prayers. I shall burn them with my holy cross. I shall...
Journalist: The curious eye of a Martian appeared at the window slit, and a menacing claw explored the room. I dragged the parson down to the coal cellar. I heard the Martian fumbling at the latch. In the darkness I could see the claw touching things, walls, coal, wood, and then, it touched my boot. I almost shouted. For a time it was still, and then, with a click, it gripped something: the parson! With slow, deliberate movements, his unconscious body was dragged away, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.
I crept to the blocked window slit and peered through the creeper. The Martians, and all their machinery, had gone! Trembling, I dug my way out and clambered to the top of the mound: not a Martian in sight! The day seemed dazzling bright after my imprisonment and the sky a glowing blue. Red weed covered every scrap of ground but a gentle breeze kept it swaying, and oh, the sweetness of the air.
The Journalist: The steamer began to move slowly away,
but on the landward horizon appeared the silhouette of
a fighting machine. Another came. And another. Striding
over hills and trees, plunging far out to sea and
blocking the exit of the steamer. Between them, lay the
silent, grey ironclad, Thunderchild. Slowly it moved
towards shore then, with a deafening roar and whoosh of
spray, it swung about and drove at full speed towards
the waiting Martians.
People: There were ships of shapes and sizes,
Scattered out along the bay,
and I thought I heard her calling,
As the steamer pulled away,
The invaders must have seen them,
As across the coast they filed,
Standin' firm between them,
There lay Thunder Child!
Moving swiftly through the waters,
Cannons blazing as she came,
Brought a mighty metal warlord,
CRASHING down in sheets of flame,
Sensing victory was nearing,
Thinkin' fortune must have smiled,
People started cheering,
"Come on Thunderchild!"
"Come on thunderchi hi i-i-ild"
The Journalist: The Martians released their black
smoke, but the ship sped on, cutting down one of the
tripod figures. Instantly, the others raised their heat
rays, and melted the Thunderchild's valiant heart.
People: Lashing ropes and smashing timbers,
Flashing heat rays pierce the deck,
Dashing hopes for our deliverence,
As we watched the sinking wreck!,
With the smoke of battle clearing,
Over graves in waves defiled,
Slowly disappearing,
Farewell Thunderchild,
Slowly disappearing,
Farewell Thunderchild!
Farewell Thunderchi-hi-i-i-ild,
Farewell Thunder-----Child, chi, chi, child!
The Journalist: When the smoke cleared, the little
steamer had reached the misty horizon and Carrie was
safe. But the Thunderchild had vanished forever, taking
with her Man's last hope for victory. The leaden sky
was lit by green flashes, cylinder following cylinder,
and noone and nothing was left now to fight them. The
Listen, do you hear them drawing near,
In their search for the sinners?
Feeding on the power of our fear,
And the evil within us.
Incarnation of Satan's creation of all that we dread,
When the demons arrive,
Those alive would be better off dead!
(Female)
There must be something worth living for,
There must be something worth trying for,
Even some things worth dying for,
And if one man can stand tall,
There must be some hope for us all,
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man.
(Male)
Once there was a time when I believed,
Without hesitiation,
That the power of love and truth could conquer all,
In the name of salvation.
Tell me what kind of weapon is love when it comes to the fight?
And just how much protection is truth against all Satan's might?
(Female)
There must be something worth living for,
There must be something worth trying for,
Even some things worth dying for,
And if one man can stand tall,
There must be some hope for us all,
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man.
(Dialogue)
(Female)
No, Nathaniel,
Oh no, Nathaniel,
No, Nathaniel, no,
There must be more to life,
There has to be a way,
We can restore to life,
The love we used to know.
Nathaniel, no,
There must be more to life,
There has to be a way,
We can restore to life,
The light that we have lost.
(Male)
Now darkness has descended on our land,
And all your prayers cannot save us,
Like fools we've let the Devil take command,
Of the souls that God gave us.
To the altar of evil like lambs to the slaughter we're led,
When the demons arrive the survivors will envy the dead!
(Female)
There must be something worth living for.
(Male)
No, there is nothing!
(Female)
There must be something worth trying for.
(Male)
I don't believe it's so.
(Female)
Even some things worth dying for,
If just one man can stand tall,
There would be some help for us all,
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man.
(Dialogue)
(Female)
No, Nathaniel,
Oh no, Nathaniel,
No, Nathaniel, no,
There must be more to life,
There has to be a way,
We can restore to life,
The love we used to know.
Nathaniel, no,
There must be more to life,
There has to be a way,
We can restore to life,
The light that we have lost.
(Dialogue)
(Male)
There is a curse on Mankind,
We may as well be resigned,
To let the Devil,
JOURNALIST: No one would have believed, in the last
years of the nineteenth century, that human affairs
were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as
someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm
and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even
considered the possibility of life on other planets and
yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably
superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes,
and slowly and surely, they drew their plans against
At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of
luminous gas erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth.
Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly
hurtling towards us, came the first of the missiles
that were to bring so much calamity to Earth. As I
watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another
missile, starting on its way.
And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare,
spurting out from Mars - bright green, drawing a green
mist behind it - a beautiful, but somehow disturbing
sight. Ogilvy, the astronomer, assured me we were in no
danger. He was convinced there could be no living thing
on that remote, forbidding planet.
SONG: "The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one - but still they come!"
JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile
approached Earth. It was thought to be an ordinary
falling star, but next day there was a huge crater in
the middle of the Common, and Ogilvy came to examine
what lay there: a cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming
from within.
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing,
and Ogilvy feared there was a man inside, trying to
escape. he rushed to the cylinder, but the intense heat
stopped him before he could burn himself on the metal.
SONG: "The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one - but still they come!"
"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one - but they still come!"
JOURNALIST: It seems totally incredible to me now that
everyone spent that evening as though it were just like
any other. From the railway station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost
into melody by the distance. It all seemed so safe and
THE JOURNALIST: Again, I was on my way back to London -
through towns and villages that were blackened ruins,
totally silent, desolated, deserted. Man's empire had
passed away, taken swiftly and without error by these
creatures who were composed entirely of brain.
Unhampered by the complex systems that make up man, they
made and used different bodies according to their needs.
They never tired, never slept, and never suffered, having
long since eliminated from their planet the bacteria
The Earth under the Martians
The Red Weed and Parson Nathaniel
Journalist: Next day, the dawn was a brilliant, fiery red and I wandered through the weird and lurid landscape of another planet, for the vegetation which gives Mars its red appearance had taken root on Earth. As man had succumbed to the Martians, so our land now succumbed to the red weed.
JOURNALIST: No one would have believed, in the last
years of the nineteenth century, that human affairs
were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.
No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as
someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm
and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even
considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet,
across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior
to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and
slowly and surely, they drew their plans against us.
At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of
luminous gas erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth.
Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly
hurtling towards us, came the first of the missiles
that were to bring so much calamity to Earth. As I
watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another
missile, starting on its way.
And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare,
spurting out from Mars - bright green, drawing a green
mist behind it - a beautiful, but somehow disturbing
sight. Ogilvy, the astronomer, assured me we were in no
danger. He was convinced there could be no living thing
on that remote, forbidding planet.
JOURNALIST (Sung): "The chances of anything coming from
Mars are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they come!"
JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile
approached Earth. It was thought to be an ordinary
falling star, but next day there was a huge crater in
the middle of the Common, and Ogilvy came to examine
what lay there: a cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming
from within.
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing,
and Ogilvy feared there was a man inside, trying to
escape. He rushed to the cylinder, but the intense heat
stopped him before he even burned himself on the metal.
JOURNALIST (Sung): "The chances of anything coming from
Mars are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they come!"
"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a
million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million
to one - but still they come!"
JOURNALIST: It seems totally incredible to me now that
everyone spent that evening as though it were just like
any other. From the railway station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost
into melody by the distance. It all seemed so safe and
PASADENA CONTROL: It's looking good. It's going good.
We're getting great pictures here at Nasa Control,
Pasadena. The landing-craft touched down on Mars 28
Kilometers from the aim-point. We're looking at a
remarkable landscape, littered with different kinds of
rocks - red, purple.... How 'bout that, Bermuda?
BERMUDA CONTROL: Fantastic! Look at the dune-field.
PASADENA CONTROL: Hey, wait. I'm getting a no-go signal.
Now I'm losing one of the craft. Hey, Bermuda, you
getting it?
BERMUDA CONTROL: No, I lost contact. There's a lot of
dust blowing up there.
PASADENA CONTROL: Now I've lost the second craft. We got
problems.
BERMUDA CONTROL: All contact lost, Pasadena. Maybe the
antenna's...
PASADENA CONTROL: What's that flare? See it? A green
flare, coming from Mars, kind of a green mist behind it.
It's getting closer. You see it, Bermuda? Come in,
Bermuda! Houston, come in! What's going on?
Tracking station 43, Canberra, come in Canberra! Tracking
station 63, can you hear me, Madrid? Can anybody hear me?
JOURNALIST: The torment was ended. The people scattered
over the country, desperate, leaderless, starved... the
thousands who had fled by sea - including the one most
dear to me - all would return. The pulse of life, growing
stronger and stronger, would beat again.
As life returns to normal, the question of another attack
from Mars causes universal concern. Is our planet safe,
or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be
that, across the immensity of space, they have learned
their lessons and even now await their opportunity.
Perhaps the future belongs not to us - but to the
There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston road,
their outlines softened by the black dust. All was
still, houses locked and empty, shops closed, but
looters had helped themselves to wine and food, and
outside a jewelers some gold chains and a watch were
scattered on the pavement.
Martian: Ulla!
I stopped, staring towards the sound. It seemed as if
that mighty desert of houses had found a voice for its
fear and solitude.
Martian: Ulla!
The desolating cry worked upon my mind. The wailing
took possession of me. I was intensely weary, footsore,
hungry and thirsty. Why was I wandering alone in this
city of the dead? Why was I alive when London was lying
in state in its black shroud? I felt intolerably
lonely, drifting from street to empty street, drawn
inexorably towards that cry.
Martian: Ulla!
I saw, over the trees on Primrose Hill, the fighting
machine from which the howling came. I crossed Regent's
Canal. There stood a second machine, upright, but as
still as the first.
Martian: Ulla!
Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly the desolation,
the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice
sounded London still seemed alive. now suddenly there
was a change, the passing of something, and all that
remained was this gaunt quiet.
I looked up, and saw a third machine. It was erect and
motionless, like the others. An insane resolve
possessed me: I would give my life to the Martians,
here and now.
I marched recklessly towards the titan and saw that a
multitude of black birds were circling and clustering
about the hood. I began running along the road. I felt
no fear, only a wild, trembling exultation as I ran up
the hill towards the monster. Out of the hood hung red
shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.
I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose hill, the
Martian's camp was below me. A mighty space it was, and
scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were
the Martians, slain after all man's devices had failed
by the humblest creatures on the earth: bacteria.
Minute, invisible, bacteria.
Directly the Invaders arrived and drank and fed, our
microscopic allies attacked them. From that moment -
The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here
I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'Cause you're not here
'Cause you're not here
'Cause you're not here
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away
A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever autumn
'Cause you're not here
'Cause you're not here
Take a look around you at the world we've come to know,
Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show?
But maybe from the madness something beautiful will grow,
In a brave new world,
With just a handful of men.
We'll start, we'll start all over again,
All over again,
All over again,
All over again,
All over again.
(Dialogue)
Now our domination of the Earth is fading fast,
And out of the confusion the chance has come at last,
To build a better future from the ashes of the past,
In a brave new world,
With just a handful of men,
We'll start all over again.
Look, man is born in freedom but he soon becomes a slave,
In cages of convention from the cradle to the grave,
The weak fall by the wayside but the strong will be saved,
In a brave new world,
With just a handful of men,
We'll start all over again.
I'm not trying to tell you what to be,
Oh no, oh no not me,
But if mankind is to survive,
The people left alive,
They're gonna have to build this world anew,
And it's gonna have to start with me and you,
Yes!
I'm not tryinhg to tell you what to be,
Oh no, oh no, not me,
But if mankind is to survive,
The people left alive,
They're gonna have to build this world anew,
Yes and we will have to be the chosen few.
Just think of all the poverty, the hatred and the lies,
And imagine the destruction of all that you despise,
Slowly from the ashes, the phoenix will rise,
In a brave new world,
With just a handful of men,
We'll start all over again.
Take a look around you at the world you've loved so well,
And bid the ageing empire of Man a last farewell,
It may not sound like Heaven, but at least it isn't Hell,
It's a brave new world,
With just a handful of men,
We'll start,
We'll start all over again,
All over again,
All over again,
All over again,
All over again.
(Dialogue)
Take a look around you at the world we've come to know,
Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show?
Next day, the dawn was a brilliant, fiery red
And I wandered through the weird and lurid landscape
Of another planet for the vegetation
That gives Mars its red appearance had taken root on earth
As man had succumbed to the Martians
So our land now succumbed to the red weed
Wherever there was a stream, the red weed clung
And grew with frightening voraciousness
Its claw-like fronds choking the movement of the water
And then it began to creep like a slimy red animal
Across the land covering field and ditch, and tree
The steamer began to move slowly away, but on the landward horizon appeared the silhouette of a fighting machine. another came, and another, striding over hills and trees, plunging far out to sea and blocking the exit of the steamer. between them lay the silent, gray, ironclad thunderchild. slowly it moved towards shore, then with a deafening roar and whoosh of spray it swung about and drove at full speed towards the waiting martians.
Thunderchild
journalist
there were ships of shapes and sizes,
scattered out along the bay
and i thought i heard her calling,
as the steamer pulled away
the invaders must have seen them
as across the coast they filed
standing firm between them,
there lay thunderchild
moving swiftly through the waters,
cannons blazing as she came,
brought a mighty metal warlord
crashing down in sheets of flame,
sensing victory was nearing,
thinking fortune must have smiled,
people started cheering,
"come on thunderchild! come on thunderchild!"
The martians released their black smoke, but the ship sped on, cutting down one of the tripod figures. instantly, the others raised their heat rays, and melted the thunderchild's valiant heart.
journalist
lashing ropes and smashing timbers,
flashing heat rays pierced the deck,
dashing hopes for our deliverance,
as we watched the sinking wreck,
with the smoke of battle clearing,
over graves and waves defiled,
slowly disappearing, farewell thunderchild!
slowly disappearing, farewell thunderchild!
farewell thunderchild!
farewell thunderchild, child, child, child, child...
When the smoke cleared, the little steamer had reached the misty horizon, and carrie was safe. but the thunderchild had vanished forever, taking with her man's last hope of victory. the leaden sky was lit by green flashes, cylinder following cylinder, and no one and nothing was left now to fight them. the earth belonged to the martians.
![JEFF WAYNE'S WAR OF THE WORLDS - Interview w/ Jeff Wayne [Part 1]](http://web.archive.org./web/20140624044453im_/http://i.ytimg.com/vi/S33PKCIWQfc/0.jpg "JEFF WAYNE'S WAR OF THE WORLDS - Interview w/ Jeff Wayne [Part 1]")
